In Which Blaine Doesn't Have a Dad
by shipperofinsanity
Summary: Prompt: When it comes to Fathers Blaine was taught all his life that love and approval must be earned. When Blaine broke Kurt's heart he knew he also broke Burt's trust. 5 things Blaine did to try to win back Burt's approval and one time he found out a Father's love can also be given freely.


When Blaine had been three years old his father had hit him for the first time.

It wasn't abusive or out of line, though it wasn't a spanking so much as a slap. Blaine had been too loud and too energetic while his mother was ill and needed peace and quiet, and he kept pestering her, asking her things and refusing to understand why she couldn't answer. So his father had hit him.

That was the first time that his father had also told him the rule he carried with him for what seemed like eternity: "Love has to be earned, son, and you're not earning much of it right now."

But Burt had no way of knowing this at the time. All he knew was that Blaine Anderson was trying _way_ too hard.

The first time Burt noticed something was just slightly off was two days after they got back from New York at Christmas. Blaine drove up to the tire shop in his car and Burt saw why - one of his tires was obviously flat, and badly so. But when he clambered out of it, he wasn't wearing the expression most people did when something was wrong with their car; he was smiling, and widely so, though it seemed to Burt to be somewhat forced.

"Hey, Mr. Hummel," Blaine greeted, flinching out of the cold air as he entered the garage.

"For the thousandth time -"

"Sorry, right," Blaine cut across, shaking his head, "Hey, Burt."

"That's better," Burt grinned at him. "Flat tire?"

"Mm," Blaine nodded his affirmation. "I would have changed it myself but I didn't actually have a spare tire, so I figured I'm come down here and buy one and then fix it."

"Let me do my job, kid," Burt teased. "I can change the tire, and you don't have to pay."

The last sentence struck Blaine's mouth open and his eyes, which had been studying and analyzing him the entire time, wide - but then he blinked twice and snapped his mouth shut before saying, "Of course I'll pay. And you don't have to do anything -"

"If I didn't do anything, I wouldn't be in business," Burt told him, "And no, you don't have to pay. You're family, kid, it's not like I'd charge Finn or Kurt for a spare tire when they needed one."

But Blaine wouldn't bite. He refused adamantly to leave without paying up-front, and it wasn't until after he'd driven off that Burt actually opened the wad of cash to see he'd paid nearly double what the price was. Not only that, but after he'd gotten his tire, he set to work fixing the flat himself, and merely chatted with Burt the whole time, asking him questions about the welfare of the others in his family, asking about if he knew what he was going to do about the cancer of it he was going to do anything at all. He never asked questions too private and he never crossed the line that people set when first making friends with someone as opposed to talking to family. He was pleasant and polite and worked hard and when he was finished he let Burt hug him before he drove off.

Burt might have hugged him tighter than was necessary, but the kid obviously needed - and deserved - a hug. Not to mention the fact that Blaine hugged him back twice as hard as he did and his hands started to shake when he pulled away.

And if it hadn't been for the snow, when Burt looked at him driving away he'd have been able to see that Blaine was crying through the window.

The second time Burt noticed something was off was at the grocery store almost a week later. Blaine's car was parked in plain sight just two spaces away from the front of the row, the no-longer-flat tire sticking out slightly because it was newer than the others. Burt parked next to it - it was _early_ in the morning and a school day, so that wasn't a problem, the parking lot was mostly vacant - and by the time he got inside the store, Blaine was ready to walk out.

He was carrying what was clearly too many bags that were too heavy. He was just walking to the door when Burt came through it. Blaine's face, which had been fallen and tired-looking, lit up to its usual cheeriness. "Mr. Hummel!" he exclaimed in greeting.

"Kid -"

"Burt," he corrected, grinning as he always did. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't be sorry and don't call me 'sir'," Burt told him fondly, rolling his eyes in false irritation. "Let me help you with those."

"Oh, no, it's fine, I've got them," Blaine assured him. Burt knew the kid was a good actor and this was only proving the point.

"Yeah, well I'll get them, too," Burt told him firmly, and reached out to take two of the bags. "Why are you grocery shopping anyway? And on a Tuesday morning? Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"

Blaine shrugged, and explained that he was ready for school, and as long as he was bored and it was too early to Skype with Kurt, he might as well get the groceries. Upon further questioning, Burt learned that Blaine's parents were out of town, and that Blaine had the house to himself for the week.

Though he never stated it, three things were obvious: one, that he hate that Burt to had to put effort into anything, even if it was just carrying bags; two, that staying in such a big house all by himself was lonelier than anyone liked to feel; and three, that he didn't want Burt to pick up on either of those feelings. But Burt did, and so he invited him to dinner.

The third time Burt noticed something was wrong was at dinner that same night. Blaine showed up looking the same as he had that morning, but with maybe a bit more gel in his hair (Burt never would understand his need to cement it to his scalp), and when Carole opened the door, he said, "Hi, Mrs. Hudson."

"It's Carole to you, sweetheart," she told him, and kissed his forehead when she hugged him before ushering him inside.

Their table was full, with the two adults and the three boys. Blaine and Sam snickered at each other a lot, and Burt finally figured out why - they had their own secret language. Blaine had a language with Kurt, too, but it was a sub-textual one, a language that relief entirely on the tiny quirks that they did without even thinking about it. A twitch of the pinky finger = I want to leave. A small sigh = this is perfect. A giggle that came from nowhere = you are adorable and I have no idea why you let me love you. But Sam and Blaine's language was different, a language that relied on purposefully done acts and not tiny bits of bodily dialogue. A wiggle of the eyebrows = inside joke. A wrinkle of the nose = I'm not going to say it out loud but you caught the innuendo, right? A small smirk and a glance in the other's direction = Okay, this is definitely coming up the next time we play video games. As opposed to how Kurt and Blaine would forget the rest of the world when they communicated silently and just stared at each other until someone yanked them out of distraction, Blaine and Sam had no trouble interacting and saying things out loud, as well.

It was a different kind of love. A brotherly kind, a best-friend kind.

And how he acted with Finn was different, too. He was respectful and polite - two words that come up more often than not when thinking of Blaine Anderson - and generally listened to everything Finn had to say ad then waited to see if he was done before adding his two cents in. It was almost as if they were still in that stage where you've become close friends with someone but you're not sure how much "close" covers so you don't say anything with too much context.

He treated Carole like a queen and the only reason he didn't treat Burt like a king was because he knew Burt wouldn't let him, because Burt knew what he was doing.

But he treated _himself_ like a servant.

When everyone had finished the actual meal, he volunteered to get the dessert Carole mentioned and bring it to the table, and so he did, along with picking up everyone's dishes and silverware and setting them on the counter above the dishwasher. When he took his first bite of the cake Carole had made, he closed his eyes and savored it, and when he'd swallowed he complimented her and her cooking ability in a way that if it had been delivered any differently would have been creepy but as it was it was entirely appropriate and flattering. And after everyone had eaten desert, he took their dishes again and started loading the dishwasher. When Carole came in to do it, he waved her off and said he could handle it; when Sam asked if he'd like to stick around and watch the game, Blaine laughed and said he had homework to complete and a Skype call to make.

Before he left, he thanked them all profusely, and when they moved to hug him he hugged back. Again, Burt noticed that he hugged them much tighter than they hugged him, and by the time he was out the door he was shaking almost too hard to play it off as just cold.

And if he'd have looked through the window, he'd have seen Blaine break down.

The fourth time Burt noticed something was off was a bit more serious than the other. Sam invited Blaine over for video games one night and they played as easily as they always did. Carole offered to bring them snacks and Blaine politely declined (although Sam accepted without a second thought), and when they'd beaten the level they started on homework. Burt was walking by the room to get to the bathroom when he heard a bit of their conversation floating out the door.

"So do you have any idea where you're going to go to college?" Sam asked him. Burt paused outside the door, waiting to hear the answer, thinking he already knew it.

"I - well, I _was_ thinking about NYADA, but… um…"

"What?" Sam asked. "But what? Didn't Kurt say it would be great?"

"Yeah, he did, but I don't… I don't think he'd want to be in such close proximity to me so often, you know?" Blaine tried to explain, weakly. "I mean, we're still friends and all, but you know how it is. He's still hurt and I'm still hung up on him and that just doesn't bode well for either of us."

"A lot can happen in the months we've got left," Sam reminded him. "Give anything enough time and it'll heal."

"Give anything enough time and it'll die."

Sam didn't have a response to that and neither did Burt, but as soon as Blaine apologized for the heaviness of his last creepy sentence, things seemed to be back to normal.

The fifth time Burt noticed something was off, though it certainly wasn't as if he hadn't seen him between the video games night and then, was a month after Valentine's day. Blaine was climbing back into his car to leave after he'd come for dinner yet again, and he checked his phone.

The difference in his face before he saw the text and after were incredibly disturbing.

That time, Burt _did_ see him cry.

"Blaine?!" he called, panicked, hurrying from the house and slamming the door behind him. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

As soon as Blaine knew he was there, his face transformed again. Tears were still sliding down his cheeks, but he seemed confused now as opposed to the terrified and heartbroken person he was before. "What do you mean?" he said, trying to wipe at the tears subtly.

"I saw you crying, Anderson," Burt told him, with just enough force to ensure that Blaine didn't question it. "You checked you phone and started crying. What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing happened," Blaine said, trying to wave it off. Burt grabbed his wrist, and Blaine's face fell again as soon as he made contact.

"Bud, you know you can tell me," Burt said quietly, and it wasn't until much later that Burt figured out that what made Blaine start crying again was that he'd called him "Bud", a name he only ever used for Kurt.

But Blaine _did_ start crying again, and it was horrible. He cried and he sniffed and hiccuped and apologized and when Burt pulled him out of the car to hug him he couldn't let go. His fingers dug into him through the coat and his flannel shirt so he could just feel their pressure like he could feel the weight of his arms wrapped around his shoulders. Every time a new sob tore from Blaine's mouth an old promise tore from his heart and out his lips. "Shh, you're alright," he told Blaine quietly. "Let it all out, it'll be alright. You're okay." Burt was surprised at himself; Carole and Elizabeth had been the ones who dealt best with tears. He was the gruff one, the one who fought hard or who didn't fight, and yet here he was, holding Blaine like he'd held Kurt all those time in the years following Elizabeth's death, with Carole inside with Finn and Sam and nobody outside but them. "You'll be just fine, it's all gonna be alright. Shh, it's okay."

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm trying so hard I'm trying so hard to make this okay again but I messed it up and I don't know what I did this time but I'm so sorry I'm sorry I really am sorry -"

"Hey, hey, you don't need to be sorry, alright? Whatever you did, it's okay. We can fix it. It's gonna be fine."

"But I ruined it I ruined everything I'm not earning anything I'm sorry I'm sorry I just want everything to be okay again but I'm so sorry -"

"Shh, shh, I'm right here. Right here. Okay? I'm right here."

"But why, why are you here, why are you here? I don't get it, I don't understand, I don't know what I did -"

"It's okay. I promise it'll be okay. You'll be okay."

"_But I ruined everything!_"

It was a shout, a scream, a wail of suffering beyond that which anyone human should have to handle, and it was loud. Blaine needed to be heard and Burt wondered how many times he'd ended up screaming and crying like this alone in that big house of his. Burt was shaking, too, shaking and crying with Blaine, because he hated this, hated that something had happened to make Blaine feel so worthless, hated that Blaine could scream with such heartfelt agony.

"No, you haven't," Burt disagreed, and Blaine's only response was to cry out without words and only hurt and clutch Burt as close as possible so he could weep.

Burt was sure that if Blaine had been stable enough to think straight he would have been irritated at how much saltwater got into his hair gel because of Burt's crying when he rested his head on top of Blaine's, but he was also sure that Blaine would have felt guilty for the irritation right afterwards and would have never said anything about it.

Blaine was the most earnest man alive, and he was just a boy, just a kid, and just really, _really_ scared of something.

By the time Blaine's body-wracking sobs had become soft sniffles and murmured apologies, Burt was ready to kill the person who'd turned him into such a mess. But instead of doing that, he asked gently, "Now, can you tell me what happened?"

Blaine took a shuddering gasp and Burt was afraid he'd pushed him over the edge again, but he just pulled back a bit, and sighed, not meeting Burt's eyes, "Kurt wants to stop talking to me again."

"What?" Of all things he'd expected, that was not one of them. "Why? I thought you guys were past this?"

"Me too," Blaine agreed, still teary, his voice still wavering, his eyes still downcast. "At Valentine's Day and that weekend he was - we were - but he just… sent me a text saying he needed space again and we shouldn't - that I shouldn't - I'm sorry."

"It's okay to be sorry, but you have nothing to be sorry for," Burt told him honestly. "This is all Kurt. I don't know what's going on between you two, but I'm sure he'll get over it. He did last time, right?"

"Yes, but…" Blaine bit his lower lip. "B-But what if it's just a cycle? He doesn't talk to me, then we're friends, then we're more than that for a night and he won't admit it," Burt _knew_ something was up with them after the wedding, "then we're friends again, then he doesn't talk to me… what if I'm just strung along for the ride because that's all he wants?"

"Do you love him?"

Blaine nodded fervently.

"Does he love you?"

Blaine shook his head.

Burt was close to just calling Kurt and demanding he get over this stupid immaturity he was displaying. "Yes, he does," Burt insisted. "He's trying not to and he's failing. He loves you and he'll always love you. It takes a while for him to get over something hurtful, Blaine, and even longer to get over denial, but he does get over it, I promise. I know him."

"I thought I did, too," Blaine whimpered, and Burt rubbed his thumb over the back of his neck soothingly, smoothing over the tension.

"You do know him," Burt tried to smile. "Why do you think that doesn't matter?"

"But that's just it, it _should_ matter, it should, that's how it works," Blaine choked, and hung his head in despair. "You have to earn someone's love and approval, you have to do it with everyone, and I broke Kurt's heart and his trust and I thought I was doing okay again, I thought I was earning it back, but now he's not letting me try and how are things supposed to be okay when _he's_ not okay?"

"It's true you have to earn the love of some people," Burt said slowly, having picked up on that from what he'd just said, "but not everyone, and you should never have to earn their approval, not if they really care about you like they should. Who told you you need to?"

"My dad," Blaine answered, and finally looked up, his eyes swollen and red and unsightly, his nose just as red and running as he sniffed woefully, and Burt saw more anger and sadness and confusion and hurt in Blaine's face than he'd ever expected to see out of the boy with those golden eyes.

On top of that, the only other mention of Blaine's father Burt had had was back before Blaine and Kurt had even begun dating, when Blaine had asked Burt to have the talk with Kurt, and Blaine had said he was pretty sure the only reason his father had built a car with him was because he thought it might make him straight.

"Blaine," Burt said, somberness creeping into his voice and furrowing his eyebrows, "What are things like at home?"

Blaine struggled to answer, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, his eyes flickering all around, before he settled on swallowing thickly and saying, "Hard. Really hard."

"Are… do your parents not… accept you?"

"As gay?" Blaine nearly spit the words out, blunt and yet carving into him and twisting. "No. As their son? As long as there' still a chance that I'm straight."

"Is there? Still a chance?"

Blaine laughed humorlessly. "No. They _think_ there is because Kurt and I broke up."

"And now they want you to get a girlfriend, don't they?"

"When I invited Tina over two weeks ago to help her with Diva Week they said they thought she was the perfect girlfriend," Blaine snorted, but though he made it seem like anger, it was really frustration, and most people cry of that more often than of sadness; sadness breaks you inside so you're too shocked to cry, but frustration makes everything seem so much worse and harder that crying is almost inevitable. "I told them they were being delusional and they told me I would burn in hell."

Burt sucked in a gasp of air, his vision flashing red, fury encompassing his blood as it rushed through his veins. "They said you'd burn in hell." It wasn't a question; it was a reiteration of what Blaine had said before, making it certain, stating a horrible fact.

Blaine shrugged. "It's not like that was the first time, and I provoked them."

"You didn't provoke them to say _that_," Burt hissed. "And they're wrong. If there's a heaven, and I think there is, when you get to those pearly gates, God's gonna do a freakin' touchdown dance."

Blaine giggled then, wetly, and another tear loosed itself on his already-coated cheeks. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel."

"It's Burt," Burt said, "Or Dad to you now. Got it?"

Blaine's whole figure stiffened, and his head jerked upward, his entire body appearing as if it were made of wood elaborately carved just so the face was easy enough to make out - shocked, unexpectant, and touched to the very core. "I… why?"

Burt cocked his head to the side as if it were the simplest thing ever. "I'm gonna be your Father-in-Law someday anyway, it's probably better we get any thought that I don't love you out of the way now."

"I… you're - but… I - you…"

"… are at a loss for words, that's what you are," Burt said, his livid state fading to make room for a different kind of warmth. "Now, how long have you felt like you've needed to break down like you just did?"

"Oh, I…" Blaine knew what to say now, but he didn't want to. "Um, almost every time I see you, or Kurt, or… or anyone I love, actually."

_He loves me._ "Why?"

"Because…" Blaine bit his lip again, and even tear-stained and half-shattered, Burt saw clearly why Kurt loved him (even if Kurt didn't want to). "I, um, I keep - I keep trying to make sure that I make everyone else happy and they don't - um, they never notice that I'm not. Especially you guys, because you really are like family, but after I see you I either have to go home to an empty house or to a house that might as well be empty for how much the people in it acknowledge me. And I - it's, it's so much, and I have no idea what I want for my future besides Kurt, and he doesn't seem to want me in his, so I just kind of - scream." Blaine looked to Burt for the repercussions of speaking all of that out loud.

"I noticed," Burt said guiltily, "and I'm sorry that I never said anything. I ever saw you cry or heard you scream, but I knew something was wrong. And I'm so sorry that I never took care of it or you like I should have."

"You didn't -"

"And you know that whenever your house gets to be too much you can stay here," Burt promised, "We'd be more than happy to have you."

Blaine's eyes sparkled with tears again, but he was smiling. "I -"

"And you should never have to earn the love of a parent. Know that; know that I'll always love you, kiddo."

"Always?"

Burt nodded. "And it's alright that you don't know what you want for your future. As long as you have one aspect of it in your heart, no matter how far-fetched it might seem, even if it's Kurt, you'll figure it out. You'll be fine, kid."

Blaine seemed so unsure but so desperate to believe it that Burt almost started crying again. "I'll be okay?"

"You'll be amazing."

And Blaine hugged him again like he had before, tightly, clinging to him like a lifeline, his head resting on his shoulder, his eyes shut tightly against the tears - but this time the corners of his lips were turned up and not down, and Burt held him, too. He was warm and still trembling but he would be fine. And it he couldn't be fine on his own Burt would force the rest of the world and God himself to make it so he could be. "Why don't you come inside and watch the game?" Burt asked.

"Thank you." It spoke volumes.


End file.
